Organs Of Donation
Entry by: daddy
15th December 2014
memories
I got a message late afternoon, asking me to come. It took 4/5 hours until I reached her home, she was in her room, with instructions to be left alone with her pain. Late in the night her husband opened the door to check and informed us of her demise.
Deathly calm had descended on the premises and was broken by silence speaking about journey of her past year’s battle with life. Her husband, mother and son were quiet and sobered at the inevitable deliverance. After the son made the phone call to the doctor, the routine in the house had come to a standstill; no one knew what to do next, there was nothing to do but to wait in silence.
She had been a rebel, unorthodox and uncomplicated but always having her say and of course her way. Her adversaries admired the brilliance, tenacity and the diligence she put in her work always to stump the opposition in debates and literary arguments, citing prose and poetry with élan to prove her logic.
She had risen to the pinnacle of her vocation in her thirties with sheer devotion to her work and stayed there unconquered. A living exception to the proverb, that wisdom comes only with age. Her friends were at least twenty years older than she was and from various diverse fields, for she had that capacity to leave people enriched even after meeting her innumerable times.
The books were all over the house, written and dictated pages littered the floor of her room, remains of a novel perhaps left unfinished. Brilliance eclipsed at mid noon. Everyone comes with their own destiny, she used to say, and everyone has to work hard to be where they really want to be. No will, nothing at all about her meager possessions or last words to her son or her husband, only a request a few days earlier to donate the books to the library.
The doctor came with two men who removed her eyes and placed two cotton pads in place. The hospital van came and advised us to see and pray one last time as she would no longer remain a person with a name, she would be a cadaver to the medical college. Unknown to us, she had dedicated her organs to the needy and her body to medical science.
No cremation, no rituals, no mourning, nothing at all , it just took 15 minutes to complete procedures and we have been left speechless ever since that Christmas day.
Memories of those 15 minutes continue to remain alive even after decades. As her sister, I have this embedded feeling of being a receiver of her heart full of feelings, of some unfinished business, with closure, perhaps, with me donating my organs and body.
I got a message late afternoon, asking me to come. It took 4/5 hours until I reached her home, she was in her room, with instructions to be left alone with her pain. Late in the night her husband opened the door to check and informed us of her demise.
Deathly calm had descended on the premises and was broken by silence speaking about journey of her past year’s battle with life. Her husband, mother and son were quiet and sobered at the inevitable deliverance. After the son made the phone call to the doctor, the routine in the house had come to a standstill; no one knew what to do next, there was nothing to do but to wait in silence.
She had been a rebel, unorthodox and uncomplicated but always having her say and of course her way. Her adversaries admired the brilliance, tenacity and the diligence she put in her work always to stump the opposition in debates and literary arguments, citing prose and poetry with élan to prove her logic.
She had risen to the pinnacle of her vocation in her thirties with sheer devotion to her work and stayed there unconquered. A living exception to the proverb, that wisdom comes only with age. Her friends were at least twenty years older than she was and from various diverse fields, for she had that capacity to leave people enriched even after meeting her innumerable times.
The books were all over the house, written and dictated pages littered the floor of her room, remains of a novel perhaps left unfinished. Brilliance eclipsed at mid noon. Everyone comes with their own destiny, she used to say, and everyone has to work hard to be where they really want to be. No will, nothing at all about her meager possessions or last words to her son or her husband, only a request a few days earlier to donate the books to the library.
The doctor came with two men who removed her eyes and placed two cotton pads in place. The hospital van came and advised us to see and pray one last time as she would no longer remain a person with a name, she would be a cadaver to the medical college. Unknown to us, she had dedicated her organs to the needy and her body to medical science.
No cremation, no rituals, no mourning, nothing at all , it just took 15 minutes to complete procedures and we have been left speechless ever since that Christmas day.
Memories of those 15 minutes continue to remain alive even after decades. As her sister, I have this embedded feeling of being a receiver of her heart full of feelings, of some unfinished business, with closure, perhaps, with me donating my organs and body.
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